


The First Wolves

by kittykatknits



Series: 1001 Northern Nights [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 1001 Arabian Nights AU, Alternate Universe - Canon, Dragon Ride, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Jon starts to show Sansa she is wrong, Jon's status is known, Light Angst, R plus L equals J, light fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-10 17:09:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12916428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittykatknits/pseuds/kittykatknits
Summary: It starts with a dragon ride and Jon's story of a little boy. It ends when Sansa gives another tale of her own. Jon finally understands the lessons behind her words and Sansa begins to confront the truth... perhaps Jon is not her enemy after all.....---This is the third of a five part series. It is based upon the story of Orys Baratheon and Argella Durrandon.





	The First Wolves

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Melissa_Alexander](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melissa_Alexander/gifts).



> This is for Melissa_Alexander (kitten1618x on tumblr). Thank you for your words of support with this fic!!

 

Jon had wed himself to Sansa a sennight ago. They’d not shared a bed since their wretched jape of a wedding night. He’d not kissed her other than in front of the heart tree, a chaste and dry kiss, devoid of affection. The only intimacy they shared was in the evenings as she shared her northern tales with him. He loved the sound of her voice when she spoke, it was a sweet melody that grabbed at him. There were times Sansa left him wanting to beg for more, to stay in his chambers for another story, a chance to share another experience. She made the north a place that could be his home, she gave him a history he never knew he was missing.

They were something less than enemies and something more than mere acquaintances. Jon was not foolish enough to believe them friends but he knew enough to listen and to watch. He knew she loved the north, felt a deep responsibility to her people. He knew she loved sweet bread and lemon cakes. He’d seen her take in the rich scent of blue roses, sighing over the simple pleasure of it, before she noticed him and her mask fell into place. He’d spied her singing as she walked about the castle.

Still, as the days passed, she avoided answering the question he’d put to her the very first time they spoke. As much as he’d learned about his wife, Jon did not know why. It made no matter, as she would eventually realize he was a determined man. So, he decided, it was best to barge into her chambers unannounced.

Except, he’d not expected her to be clad in only a robe of thin, white silk, and a loosely tied one at that. Sansa’s luscious flesh peeked out at him, bringing back memories of her pink nipples and the red curls by her cunt.

“Jon,” she burst out, stepping away from him in shock.

“Forgive me, I should have announced my presence.” He was not at all sorry. Sansa said his name. “May I speak with you?”

“Of course. A husband may speak with his wife as he pleases. Do you require assistance or is there some task to be done?”

“Neither. I’d hoped for your company.” The idea occurred after she’d left his chambers the previous night. She would refuse winter roses, they were not in love. Sansa would chafe at wearing a necklace or any other jewelry he gave her. She would not know how to refuse this. “I’d like you to show me the north.”

“Show you the north,” she croaked. Jon felt as if he’d won some great victory. Sansa always had a response to whatever he said. This was a first.

“Yes,” he answered, keeping his tone even, “On my dragon. Sansa stiffened but said nothing. Jon hoped the delight he took in it did not show on his features. “As soon as you dress, meet me at the kings road gate. Oh, be sure to wear a heavy cloak.”

He bowed and made a hasty retreat before Sansa could think up an excuse to avoid their outing. She did not and Jon felt as if he’d won another great victory. Her hair was in a thick braid, a style he’d noticed amongst many women in the north. It suited her.

“Shall we go?” Jon offered his arm, determined to stay true to the vow he’d made that morning. There would be no display of temper, at least on his part, that day.

Sansa narrowed her eyes, suspicious, but took his arm without complaint. “Where are we going?”

“First, to Viserion. She’s curious to meet you. After that, I hoped to visit the shores of Long Lake. If it pleases you, that is.”

“That would be lovely,” she said solemnly. After a moment of silence, Sansa asked, “How do you know she’s a girl? Your dragon, I mean.”

Jon wondered how best to explain, he’d puzzled over this more than once. “She told me.” A simple answer, if not a complete one.

“She told you? What tongue does she speak?”

He laughed, unable to stop himself. “Dothraki.” Truthfully, he spoke the common tongue with her, when he used words at all. He indicated the sky southwards. “There she is.”

“How did you know she would be here?”

Jon wondered if she realized every word she’d uttered to him had been a question. He waited until Viserion landed and lowered her wing, awaiting him. “I knew.” He meant to reveal nothing else, liking the idea of her being the ignorant one, at least this time. “Don’t ask for a better explanation, there isn’t one. I feel her and she feels me. It’s odd, really. She’s the most well trained of the three of them, always has been, even though I’m not a true dragon.”

“A true dragon? What does that mean?”

“It doesn’t matter. Come on. It’s safe, I promise you.” He escorted her up the wing before settling her on Viserion’s back.

“Be aware, if you let me fall, I will rise from the dead and come back to slap you,” Sansa warned. “Twice.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it.” He pulled her back further between his legs before whispering in her ear. “Stay close to me so you don’t fall.”

“If you think to frighten me, Jon Snow, it will take much more than a dragon ride.” He didn’t doubt that. Craven was not a word he’d use to describe Sansa Stark

Jon called an order and the air moved about them. He’d come to love the freedom to be found on Viserion’s back. Quickly, the ground below faded and Winterfell disappeared behind them. They flew over woods, following the road past villages and farms below. Viserion’s wings cast a great shadow, announcing their presence to all that might see them. Jon loved it all.

“Are you enjoying yourself?”

Sansa glanced back to see him. Her mask was completely gone, he saw only joy. “It’s quite lovely.”

“Yes, very lovely.” Still, Jon counted her reaction another victory.

Soon enough, he  set them down in an open field and escorted her to the earth below. Sansa’s cheeks were red and her eyes shone. She was a vision, it made him ache.

The lake’s name spoke true. Long Lake was vast, so wide it stretched forth like an ocean in front of them. The water’s shore line was rocky with thin, coarse sand. The wolfs wood, with its ash and oaks, stood around them. Sansa thought a dragon ride was lovely. Jon thought the land was stunning.

He bent down to poke his hand in the water. “It’s cold.”

Sansa mirrored his movements. “It’s not so cold.”

Jon’s shoulders slumped at her reminder that he did not belong in the north. “Didn’t you say a battle was once fought here?” He asked, hoping to change the subject.

She smirked. “Yes. Stark and Umber fought against Raymun Redbeard, one of the kings beyond the wall. It would have been around the time of our grandfather’s grandfather.”

“Will you tell me that story again?” Sansa did just that and as she spoke, her voice fell into that now familiar tone, as if she was as enthralled with her stories as he was. “May I tell you one of my own?”

Sansa stopped short as they walked along the shoreline. “Please, I would like that.”

Jon grinned slyly. He’d rehearsed several times. “Once, there was a little boy who had a family that was not his family and a home that was not his home. He knew somewhere, very far away, was the place he was meant to be. He did his best to ignore the uncle who tormented him and the brother who hated him, knowing one day he would grow big and escape. Finally, that day arrived, but a man came to him, a man with no hair who spoke in whispers. He told the little boy if he wished to escape, there were three tasks he must complete. First, he must swear fealty to his brother as king and always do as he said. The little boy said yes in his eagerness. It was so very easy, he gave no consideration to the cost.”

He still remembered the day he’d knelt before Aegon. It was almost nothing at all, Jon was never meant to be king so he’d happily given up any claim that could have existed, small and tenuous though it was. He’d been so young, a green boy who never gave a thought to what may be asked of him.

Sansa grasped his forearm, pulling Jon from his thoughts. She’d never touched him willingly before. He did not risk glancing her way, choosing to continue instead. “In the beginning, it was very easy for the little boy. Time passed and he made a great journey, to the land his mother knew, the mother he never knew. There, the little boy was given his second task. His brother demanded use of his sword in battle, to slay their enemies and win him a kingdom. One day, a great battle came, and the little boy fought as he always did. Above him, a pair of dragons came, their wings so large the battlefield seemed to turn dark as night. The little boy stared in horror at what he saw but he was helpless to stop it. Then, he saw the bodies he killed with his own hand and realized he was a butcher too.”

“The second field of fire…” Sansa voice was strained and so quiet he wondered if she ever meant to speak at all.

“Yes, the second field of fire,” he confirmed. Jon remembered it clearly, the stink of burning flesh was still with him. “After the battle, the little boy announced he was done fighting. It was then the little boy was given his third task and it was the cruellest one of all. His brother told him to go north to his mother’s lands, to claim it for the king. In return, the little boy could rule. If the little boy refused, he only had the one dragon while they had two, both bigger and stronger. So, the little boy marched and won the north. Only, as fate would have it, he lost too. That is the end of the story.” Inwardly, he pleaded for Sansa to understand, to forgive him a little.

It was obvious Jon wanted some response from her, only Sansa did not know what to give him. The truth was somehow exactly what she expected, and yet worse. She ached for the little boy he’d been and told herself to feel anger towards the man he’d become. She slid her hand up his arm until it rested on his shoulder. “The little boy found his home.” Sansa released him with a sharp nod before turning away. “If you will excuse me, I wish to pick some of the blooms that grow wild here.”

Sansa hurried away from him, towards the scarlet frost fires she’d spied when they first landed. Jon gave her too much. He was a warg, she knew, as her brothers and Arya had been before her. As she never was. It was not right. She dismissed these thoughts, picking up the flowers to enjoy their spicy scent. She meant to take a bouquet with her to Winterfell.

“Did I offend you?

She jumped. He’d caught her unawares. Sansa had not heard his approach, only the deep tones of his voice. She misliked that. “Earlier, you claimed to speak with your dragon. The blood of the first men is in your veins, Jon Snow. You are a skinchanger and probably a warg.”

“I don’t know what that means,” he said, puzzled.

He would not. Wargs were a thing of the north and very rare. Sansa dropped the frost fires where she stood, watching as the red blooms landed between the two of them. “You can enter the mind of an animal and speak with them. It is your first men blood that gives you your bond with Viserion. You also share Stark blood, likely you’d bond to a wolf if you had one to bond with.”

“Are you one?”

“All of my family was, my brother Bran was the strongest,” she said tightly. Sansa waited until he understood her admittance. “Do you want to hear about the first Starks with the gift?”

“Please.” Jon’s expression was the one he always wore when she gave him a story. It made her think of a child hungry for a sweet treat or gift. He undid the clasp of his cloak, setting it on the ground and indicated her to sit. Sansa did so, wrapping her arms about her knees.

“Once, long ago, there was a Stark princess who preferred animals to people. She would hide in the stables to talk with the horses and run into the wolfs wood to seek out the rabbits and foxes. Some claimed she was a wild creature, as untamed as the land around her but that was not true. The Stark princess had the same dreams as other girls, for a husband who loved her and a family of her own. Suitors came to Winterfell, eager to marry her but the princess refused them all, proclaiming she would only marry a man who loved her, and not her inheritance. Slowly, time passed and the princess despaired. She gave up hope of ever finding a man who wished to run with the wolves or fly with the birds. Finally, a day came when she sat by a stream and a wolf appeared before her. It had eyes the color of a weirwood leaf and a coat as white as snow. The Stark princess had never seen a wolf so big or fierce. It approached her, so close she felt its hot breath against the skin of her neck and face. Still, she was not afraid because somehow, she knew it meant her no harm.”

“Was it a direwolf? I’d like to see one, someday.”

“Yes, she was the very first Stark to ever see a direwolf. Well, she greeted the creature and as she did, a man appeared before her. He had solemn eyes and a lean, graceful body. The princess though, she saw strength, speed, and ferocity. They spoke together for a very long time there by the stream. She returned to that same spot over and over, and always, he was there waiting. They grew close and, eventually, they realized they were in love.”

“What does that have to do with wargs?” Jon sounded like a petulant child. Sansa could almost giggle over it, but she did not.

“Remember the direwolf? The north is a place of magic and the direwolf is one of its magical creatures. The lovers grew ever closer, always with the great direwolf close by. One day, they reached out to the creature together and they felt him. They could hear all the sounds of the forest and see with its animal eyes. And so it was, the Stark princess knew she’d found the man she wanted to marry.

“They had many children and each one possessed the ability to talk with wolves and creatures of the forest. It was the direwolf though, that gave the Starks this gift. And now you know why it is the Starks have the direwolf as their House Sigil.”

“This story is true.”

“How do you know that?” His pronouncement was a first. Jon had outright denied some of them.

“Because I believe it.” He stood, offering a hand to help her rise. “Thank you for coming with me today.”

“I’m glad you asked me.”

Jon picked up one of her discarded flowers and his beast appeared, white and gold. Sansa thought it an ugly creature, frightening and ghastly but she never intended to tell him that. He helped her mount the dragon and they returned to Winterfell, same as they’d left. She felt the dragon’s heat between her thighs and her husband’s against her back. She felt his breath by her ear and the wind in her hair. Jon would demand they go somewhere else again, and soon, she knew.

It was when they stood in the field outside Winterfell, it’s grays walls standing over them both that Sansa understood what Jon wanted.

“May I?” He seized her right hand, placing it between both of his. The tip of one finger ghosted across her knuckles and she could feel the rough skin of his palm against hers. “Thank you for today. I understand better now.”

Sansa resisted the urge to pull her hand away. “Do you? Jon, your army is camped all about us and your beast is here. She wakes me up at night with her great roars. Your sword is always on your hip, ready to be used. The very men who saw me….that day are still here.”

.Jon’s shoulders slumped as he released her. She’d wounded him but Sansa hardened her heart against it. She could not give him comfort, not then. “If you come tonight, I’d like a story about you.”

He left her alone, walking towards the nearest Winterfell gate. Sansa chose not to follow. Jon wanted her to see him as a man but she could not. She’d been stripped of her clothes and trussed up as a gift for him. He’d come north with the intent of taking her home and he’d succeeded. He was her enemy. Sansa repeated this to herself many more times, afraid she would forget it, afraid she wanted too.   


**Author's Note:**

> Melissa made this gorgeous image for me: <http://kittykatknits.tumblr.com/post/168165414962/kitten1618x-for-kittykatknits-insp-by-1001>


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